


A guide to failing a vampire hunt

by FluffyMana



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Blood, M/M, Work In Progress, dorky vampire, hunter psii, more characters to come I guess, vampire dualscar, vampires and vampire hunters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-16
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-02-17 15:23:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2314304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FluffyMana/pseuds/FluffyMana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You always found it funny how they never spilled any blood when they died. A bullet to the heart, a knife right there, and yet no blood spurt out. It was a lot less funny when you found yourself unable to kill one because of an unfortunate accident.<br/>---</p><p>Features dorky vampire dualscar and sassy hunter psii</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for blood and violence in all the fic and thoughts about death and such.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for blood and violence throughout the fic, and thoughts about death and such. Sorry for the short chapter, it's only the prologue

You always found it funny how they never spilled any blood when they died. A bullet to the heart, a knife right there, and yet no blood spurt out of them to stain your clothes or your face. Sure they bled profusely when you didn't deliver a killing blow. Sure. But you never particularly liked the sight of blood or long fights, so rare were the occasions you'd get blood on your person. Still, it was funny, they literally fed on blood but never bled to death.  
Maybe it would be useful to mention that your name is Sion Captor and that you are a vampire hunter. A born vampire hunter to be precise; you are a vampire halfling ( half vampire, half human), it's in your blood - pun intended - to hunt full vampires. Also, before someone asks, no you don't need to drink blood to survive. Ew. It's so unhealthy. And it would make you stoop as low as them. No you don't have any personal hatred toward them; your parents are still healthy and alive and in love, no moving revenge story. But still, they harm people and it's troublesome as hell.  
You don't hate your vampire mother and you don't plan on killing her; someone else might, since she's not a saint and still drinks blood off your father, but her death would make you sad. She's your mother after all.

   
But that's enough disguised background information for now, you are about to head off. You just did some hunting and you're exhausted. One last look to the pile of ash before you and you turn around and head back to your small appartement, careful to tuck your weapons away as you go. You're glad you aren't injured; crawling back to your home while holding your side or arm is never really easy and attracts attention. Attention to your business is the last thing you want.  
The trip home is tiring. You wish you had taken your car; you always wish you had taken your car.  
As soon as you arrive home you take a shower, a good, steaming, relaxing shower. As you get out you look at yoursefl i nthe mirror. Ugh. You look terrible. Your eyes are red and bloodshot from lack of sleep. And by red, you mean the sclera, because yes, one of your eyes has actually a reddish brown iris but that's not what you meant. The other is blue, a normal blue. You've been bullied enough because of them to know they're weird.

  
You stop staring at your own eyes and letting your mind wonder to you brush your teeth, your annoying teeth. You are a vampire halfling so you have fangs. But duality runs in your blood as well as your mother's and just like her you have a double pair of fangs. Finding a way to hide them in your mouth came with the price of lisping. You can't even pronounce you own name right while hiding them. You sound ridiculous.  
With a sigh, your teeth are clean and your try to hand comb your messy, dirty blond hair into place, but you decide it's useless before bed and give up. Your glasses end up on your bedside table as you slip into your bed. Bed sweet bed. Sleeps then tackles you like a cat pounces on a mouse.

Somewhere else, the 'you' is someone else.  
That someone looks nothing like Sion Captor. Instead of the lanky, blonde, short haired, bespectacled vampire hunter, we have a wide, ginger, with a pompuous hairdo, and scarred man. Well. Man. Not really. You are now Donovan Ampora, a middle aged vampire - you're only about 500 years old.  
And you're thinking about something amusing; humans always die while spilling so much blood. A bullet to the head, a knife in the heart and they become little blood fountains. Your kind just turn to ash and fade of existance. You die quickly. They don't. It's kinda funny. You find it funny. Humans are weird and you don't want anything to do with them that doesn't involve feeding.

  
But you live in a small old port town so you can't avoid them completely. All you can do is keep them out of your place.  
Your place is a big manor that is said to have beeen empty for centuries; of course the truth is that you actually have been living here forever but you keep It hunted-like to keep people out of your paws. Of course you always have to drive some kids out by making suspicious noises; if you don't do it you'll have stupid human hooligans thrashing your beautiful manor. And luring them in for blood would be like sending a letter to the church saying you are a vampire or calling a vampire hunter over for a little duel.  
Of course you had your fair share of little duels with them, and luckily for you it always ended by a free dinner. For you. Eventually they stopped coming frequently, they're scared, you guess. They must be because you're a real danger to this town. You have a bit of a... blood addiction? Yeah that's it.  
While you should be satisfied for a few days after having your meal off a human - if you drank the victim dry, or for the night of you felt like letting the poor human live - you actually crave blood constantly. So you hunt way more often than a normal vampire would and are a real nuisance to the area. Hunters should be coming after you constantly. But they don't and you're not gonna complain. God you're hungry.  
You get up from your fancy arm chair in the corner of your room and stretch. You then walk to your dresser and pull out some out dated fancy clothes - you look like these vampires obsessed teen goth girls imagine - you add your favorite violet cape and the cliché is complete. You hang your discarded bathrobe and head to your library. You have to rearrange some books. You kinda have a tidying problem too. You're a bit obsessed you guess.  
You have no idea that soon, your life is going to take a drastic turn. Sion Captor doesn't know that his will too. What will happen is highly previsible, yet you two have no idea of it yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, potential reader! I finally stopped complainign abotu the lack of dualpsii fics in this world, so I made my own!  
> I'll try not to make it too cliché, and since it's my first fic in years, I hope it won't be too terrible.  
> I hope you enjoyed this prologue,  
> Mana


	2. Too cliché to be real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You really should have listened to your fellow hunters.

Car trips are not your thing at all. You'd prefer taking a plane or something. But you're not far enough from where you are headed to take one, and that port town is way too small to have any airport nearby. You heave a sigh as you change lanes to exit the highway; you're almost there.

You’ve heard rumors about this town forever. Everybody knows what's happening there, yet every hunter you have ever worked with always tried to keep you away from there. That makes no doubt that a vampire lives in this town and harms the population, yet no one wants to make a move. It’s stupid.

You know that some vampires are so powerful that they are out of your average hunter's league. The problem is that you don't consider yourself as 'your average vampire hunter’. You're half vampire after all. Well today is a up day, it seems; you oscillate between thinking you're fucking great and thinking you're pathetic trash. And today you happen to be great.

But anyways you are almost there. You turn on the radio and listen to the local news; the media are frantically trying to deny the obvious vampire case by exposing theories about a serial aggressor that would like to pretend being a vampire. Naive, naive humans.

The rest of the ride is a blur of boring words and bad music, but soon enough, you pull up before the town hall. You're going to start by asking questions at the front desk; maybe they can tell you more about the town's manor. Because come on. Where else would the vampire be? Totally in the manor. So you walk there and are greeted by a bored looking woman that barely looks up at you when you make your presence known. You ask her a few questions; she asks if you're a cop. You sigh and say no. She makes a supernatural reference you don't get and just says the manor is empty and doesn't belong to anyone. When you ask why it hasn't been destroyed or put in auction she just shrugs and looks mildly uncomfortable. Reek of conspiracy. You’ll maybe look into it later, but this isn't your job. Maybe you can sell this theory to an informant. The woman adds that the town kids like to think it's haunted. You scoff and thank her without conviction as you head out and back to your car.

You're wasting no time and go straight to the manor; you pull up in front of the stairs leading to the big, old creepy wooden door. Before getting out of your car, you check your bag for guns, ammunition, knives and everything you need to hunt. Oh and a flash light. Can't forget your flash light.

You lock the car and walk to the door. The manor stands proud and mysterious above you and while it looks beautiful and calm you can't help but to feel nervous. How many hunters never came back from here? You can remember quite a few. A shiver runs down your spine. But you steel yourself - come one Sion you can do this. Shoot the motherfucker in the chest when you see him and voilà! You'll watch him - or her, actually - turn into ash and have your usual "it's funny that they don't bleed" train of thoughts. You can do it. Ah old insecurity. Welcome back.

You finally push the door open because you're not going to spend the day looking at it. You came here, you're not going to give up now because of two or three - or ten - idiots got killed.

Once you step inside, you get an eerie feeling. Everything is neat. You had expected it to have been thrashed by kids searching for a hideout or adventures. But no. Everything is neatly arranged, like it had been left there centuries ago, and then time had stopped; the beautiful armchairs you'd expect to be covered by dust and cobwebs are neat and clean, the table made of precious wood still stands polished, the carpet doesn’t look like it’s alive from all the bugs that would normally live in it. Yet there is no presence of life in there. No books lying around, nothing. The dead are in here for sure. And by the dead you mean the vampire. A clean freak vampire. Odd. Must have a cliché butler in teen girls’ books, you think. It's creepy. The sunset light from behind you, making dust in the air dance in the orange sunlight, makes it even worse. It almost makes you melancholic. You sigh and turn on your flashlight before taking the stairs in front of you.

The stairs are beautiful. They're made of old stone, with carvings under your feet. You have to stop yourself from looking at them in detail, that could be a fatal mistake. You wouldn't want to die because of some stairs. That'd be stupid.

Once you've finished going up the stairs, you find yourself in a hallway. A maze of doors awaits you and you sigh. You hate the exploration part. Especially when a hungry and angry beast could pounce on you any second. That makes you shiver. You don't feel observed yet, though. It's actually weird. You'd thought that the second you would have put your foot on the ground in front of the manor, you'd feel eyes on you. But no. Weird. You have such a bad feeling you almost feel sick.

You open a door, there's no use staying where you are, dwelling on the sick feeling building up in your gut. You find yourself in another eerily clean and tidy living room, with beautiful furniture. A magnifiscent couch, beautifully carved bookshelves, another carpet, polished tables and wodden floor. It’s beautiful but so creepy. You only look around quickly once more before you cross the room to get to the door in the right corner. It's not locked. Nothing is locked in here. Even the front door was unlocked. You can't help the slight fear rising in you as you open that door.

There, you feel a shiver run down your spine and then all your body. There's something in there. And it probably noticed you. That was fast. You had expected to search the whole manor, but look at you. A set of stairs, two door and you already found what is most likely the vampire.

You're nervous. You have no choice but advance, though. You look around and see you are in a library. There are wooden stairs in front of you. You go down them, tucking your flash light away - the room is candle lit - and grasp the handles of your twin pistols instead (you never use both at the same time but you like the idea).

Going down the stairs is a stressing process. You carefully take every step so you don’t trip and risk your life. The sickening feeling of a creature nearby grows stronger as you close the distance between you and the bookshelves. And now, you’re at the bottom of the stairs. You look around, uneasiness settle on your chest, and catch a flash of fabric behind a bookshelf.

You steel yourself and take off one of your guns from its holder on your hips and proceed carefully after you armed it and checked if it was charged or not with bullets. It was. And now you’re walking there. Slowly. Carefully. Your insides knot. You’re always a bit nervous in a field you don’t know when you hunt. The fact no hunter came back from this manor is not helping at all. For the first time in years – it didn’t happen since you were a novice – you feel like you want to run away and give up. You have no idea why. You’d never think it’d be some kind of foreshadowing. Because it is. But you don’t know it.

You take a deep breath and swiftly jump to the other side of the book shelf, where you saw the bit of fabric. You see no one. You look around, up, down. No one. Are you going crazy? Of course not, vampires are damn fast. You’re pretty fast yourself, you know, being half vampire. But as you look ahead you see another flash of fabric. Violet fabric. You frown and follow it, again, seeing nothing when you reach the spot it was in. Fucking vampire wants to play hide and seek. Greeeeat. You sigh and look around again. Then you get an idea – which isnt’ that great, just common sense – and just climb on a book shelf to have a full view of the library. What you didn’t expect was to bump into something. Bump your _back_ into something. You jump and dive on the surface of the shelf to roll and turn around as quickly as you can. You felt fangs graze your skin but you reacted fast enough not to be bitten. No blood was drawn.

You get back on your feet and you’re met with a sight that almost makes you want to laugh. If you weren’t risking your life you’d laugh. God. He looks ridiculous. Cliché as hell. Before you stands a vampire – no doubt – with slicked back flaming red hair and a scarred face. But that’s not what’s hilarious. It’s his clothes. Can’t he be more cliché? You swear he’s straight out of some hormonal teen’s romantic fantasy novel. He even has the much fantasized on stubble and sideburns. God. But he snarls at you and it’s not funny anymore. His fangs are bared and his eyes are glowing. Goddammit, you chose to come when Mr. vampire was hungry, great. You’ll learn soon that he’s always hungry. He pounces on you, like a beast, and of course you weren’t quick enough to avoid it. You find your back pressed against the hard wood of the bookshelf and a heavy vampire on you, ready to bite your neck.

He stops dead in his track when you are quick enough to put your gun up under his chin, his mouth still open. You smirk – you don’t care if he can see your fangs, actually you did it so he can see them – and kick him in the stomach, effectively getting him off you. You roll back on your feet and fire at him while he’s still confused. Well, that was fa- shit you missed. He’s on you again, and you fire to keep him at distance. The bookshelf is too narrow to fight, so you hop off, hopping he’ll follow. And he doesn’t disappoint you; he hops off too – you have to admit he has the vampire grace – and runs to you again, you keep firing to keep him at bay, still careful of the number of bullets you have. It’s such a cliché mistake to keep firing until the magazine is empty and get killed before having time to change guns or the magazine itself.

Your adversary is worth your while. You two keep clashing, even with your firing and each time you manage to push him off. You haven’t started bleeding, neither has he.

You evade one of his pouncing attacks by rolling to the side, but what you didn’t calculate was the pile of books standing there. You crash lamely into it and that allows him to rip off your gun from your hand in the confusion and pin you to the ground.

Books are pressing onto your back and head and _it hurts._ He leans in and his fangs graze your neck again. You tense, eyes wide as you look down at the mass of ginger hair. You – of course – struggle and try to kick him. But that fucker learned his lesson and is blocking your legs. You don’t give up. You struggle like your life depends on it – funny enough, it does. But you can’t evade him. You feel his fangs pierce your skin and you gasp out a cry of pain, before the whole area numbs only to become sensitive again. It’s how they do it. It hurts only a second, before their fangs diffuse some substance that makes it enjoyable. Your fangs do the same. You find it disgusting. You feel your blood leaving you, and you wish blood tests felt this nice. You also wish that it would feel as bad as blood tests. You shouldn’t be enjoying getting defeated and killed.

Miraculously, he shifts on you as he sucks your blood – that fucker makes pleased sounds, it’s disgusting – and you miraculously manage to kick him off. The substance stops being diffused and your neck hurts like a bitch as you jump to your feet, panting and wincing.

“You bastard” you snarl, lisp gone as you bare your fangs twofold to him.

He looks kind of shocked. You think he didn’t expect the fangs – seems like he didn’t notice when you smirked – and he snarls at you again, baring his bloody ones. You feel disgusted when you think it’s the same blood as the one staining your shirt and hand as you press it to the wound with a hiss.

It seems the sight of your vampire halfling fangs made him up his guard. While you were just free food with a gun before, now, you’re dangerous food. So you take advantage of it as you take your second gun and fire at him again; you quickly grow frustrated as you keep missing. Your bullets don’t even graze him, and the only thing you managed to hit was his cape (he wears a fucking cape). It seems to make him mad, and you take a step back as he tries to tackle you again. He fails for once and you shoot your last bullet at him; he cries out in pain in a deep rumbling voice as the silver tears through his shoulder – you feel grimly satisfied.

You put your foot on his shoulder and put your gun back on your belt as a smirk grows on your face. You may have no bullets in your gun anymore, but you have knives. Nice silvery knives. So take one out of its sheath and crouch in front of your prey. Looks in pain. Serves him right, you’re hurt too. You look at his bloody shoulder, and you take a second to be satisfied by making a vampire bleed. They don’t bleed to death.

But you should have never done that. That second was enough for him to get on his knees and tackle you again. While you obviously struggle, some of the blood on his shoulder splash on your face and let out a surprised cry as the hot blood gets in your eyes. You should have never done that either. Why? Because that got blood in your mouth.

You didn’t notice until you froze and electricity seemed to run through your body. Then it clicks in. He drank your blood. You got his in your mouth. Your eyes widen, and so do his.

You both stare at each other in horror before you both sit up. You wipe your eyes as you freak out internally. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck you can’t kill the bastard anymore. Why? Because you’re fucking bound to him now. Exchanging blood is a vampire custom to make contracts. Even when it’s accidental. You don’t make the rules. What are you going to do? You can’t go back with a vampire pet! While that would make you able to regulate the harm he does to humans, you’d rather have him dead. You’re too busy freaking out that you don’t notice he’s been trying to get your attention until he speaks. His voice is deep, pleasant. Not insanely so, surprisingly, but pleasant enough. You’d swoon at that in the right circumstances. If you ever swooned; which you did not. You look up at him, mismatched eyes still wide and lost.

“uh.” He starts, “that’s embarrassing” no shit, genius, “so uh, I guess wve’re bound nowv” honestly he looks as shocked and lost as you and you almost find the look on his face endearing. If only he didn’t have blood dripping from his chin. “I guess I should ask your name” he says. In a posh ancient accent. It’s somewhat wavey. It pisses you off.

“name yourself first” you spit out, fangs still bared.

He scoffs, frowns, and runs his hand through his ginger hair before answering,

“Donovwan Ampora” You almost laugh because he can’t say his name right; you’re pretty sure he meant ‘Donovan’ and not ‘Donovwan’. Then again, when you hide your fangs, you can’t say ‘Sion’ right either. You decide it’s fair enough to give you your name. You have no choice anyways. You’re going to have to live with him for a bit from now on – until you find a way to break down that contract. So cliché. It’s too cliché to be real. It really pisses you off. Good thing you’re on your medication for your bipolar tendencies or you’d flip your shit so bad that everybody would get hurt. You sigh and give him your name,

“Sion Captor” you say it coldly, glaring shamelessly at the vampire. He nods and you two sit awkwardly there, both bleeding and confused. The heavy awkward silence stretches for what feels like hours, but is only a few minutes before he speaks hesitantly – you’ve never seen a vampire this hesitant before, it’s kind of funny.

“so… You knowv wvhat a contract is about, right? I feed off you, you feed off me? Wve can still feed off others, but, at least once a day it has to be each other.”

“I know” you reply with a frown. But wait. You don’t drink blood. Oh fuck. You’re gonna have to drink from him daily. You don’t even enjoy it. You groan, close your eyes, and throw your head back in frustration. They snap open when you feel him on you again, lapping at the blood on your neck. It’s not rough like when he attacked you. It’s almost gentle, almost like an apology. It’s not. He’s probably still hungry. But you’re _angry,_ so you push him off with a hiss and a glare.

He frowns and purses his lips in a thin line. You back away, but you feel your fangs pulse all of a sudden. It’s so powerful you feel nauseous. It’s hunger. Hunger for blood. You try to ignore it, but you know it’s the result of the contract. You have to drink his stupid blood. The bastard looks at you like he understand what’s going on and tugs on his tie to loosen it, unbuttons his collar and bares his jugular to you. You don’t want to. Your body wants it badly.

You have to give up and you nearly tackle him, surrendering to your instincts as you plunge your two sets of fangs in his neck. He hisses in pain before he lets out a shakey sigh; you drink his blood like it’s the best thing you ever had; blood never tasted this sweet. You never liked it before. But you’ve never tasted anything like that. It’s so rich, so tasty, and the texture is exquisite. When you take your fangs out, you lap at the four holes in his neck and a low purring sound escapes your chest; vampires can make vibrations not unlike cats’ purrs. And you never purred this loudly before. It was just so nice.

You snap out of it and look up at him, shocked by your own behavior; he just smirks down at your and wipes blood off your chin. You glare again and pinch his hand away before getting up on woobly legs.

“get off your ass and go get a fucking first aid kit”, you order him dryly. He just rolls his eyes and gets up too, dusting his clothes as you heave a sigh.

You really should have listened to your fellow hunters.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand that was chapter one! The two protagonist have encountered each other!  
> Feedback would be appreciated /)w(\
> 
> Mana


	3. Fucking great.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sion has technology withdrawal symptoms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait for this chapter, school and a bunch of stuff robbed me of any motivation to write, lately.

If there’s something specific you hate, it’s smelling your own blood. Your blood smells terrible. It smells bland, rotten. Vampire blood stinks and right now it’s the only thing you can smell. Because, hi, your name is Donovan Ampora, and your shoulder is bleeding because some sexy blonde hunter – not the busty kind, though, you’re pretty sure from the voice and flat chest that it’s a man - shot you with a silver bullet. But you consider yourself lucky. The kid wasn’t half bad with guns and he could have killed you if fate hadn’t decided to fuck with you both. 

Sure, he’s kinda hot with these exotic fangs and slim body and messy short blonde hair – plus you’re pretty sure he has odd eyes – but you’re getting sidetracked. You were saying; sure the kid is sexy but he’s a vampire hunter and he doesn’t look like he appreciates your ginger ass. It makes sense, really. He’s a vampire hunter, a vampire halfling even, which makes him not only probably hate vampires, but have the fucking instinct to point whatever sharp thing he has in hand at a vampire whenever he sees one. Fucking great. 

But now you’re bound to him. Yup. Contract bound. Really, you try to blame him for it, if he hadn’t shot you in the shoulder he wouldn’t have gotten blood in his mouth. But you were the one who bit him in the first place. So you shut up as he freaks out once your mutual wounds are patched up as well as possible with the first aid kit that was in his car – you didn’t have one. Why would you need one you’re the one usually doing the injuring, really.

Honestly, if he wasn’t so hostile toward you, you wouldn’t mind this contract one bit. You get to drink blood daily! From a hot piece of ass, nonetheless. You’re a lucky guy. You have nothing against deals. You told him and he got angry, saying that he has – you quote – “no intentions to become your blood fridge and will find a solution to break this contract”. You simply said it wasn’t a fairytale and that breaking a contract was as annoying as going through the procedures to get an audience with a royal figure; he just tried not to laugh at you. You think it’s because you sounded very obsolete by saying that. You don’t go out much and the modern world is a big mystery to you. You’re pretty old fashioned and it’s no secret to anyone. Your lifestyle’s straight out of the nineteenth century and it makes Sion Captor laugh a lot. You just huff whenever he mocks you. 

But anyways. It’s been two days since you met – fought – him and your wounds is not getting better( the smell lingers still ew ) ; you blame the fucking silver bullet. He never apologized for it. You know he would have killed you if he could, and you would have drunk him dry if you had had the chance. He knows that too. You are now sitting on your favourite armchair in the living room just before the library, and he’s pacing around the room. You seriously want to tell him to stop damaging your carpet with the pacing and sit the fuck down – but you already did and he flipped you off while he continued to mumble things under his breath. The kid is panicking.

You can only take this much pacing before you give up and get up. You walk to the blonde and drag him – he’s struggling like his life depends on it – to the arm chair in front of the one you were sitting on. You quickly return to it and sit, crossing your legs and look straight at him, in the eye. Surprisingly enough he doesn’t spring back up to pace again; he just sinks in the armchair and glares at you. He almost looks like he’s pouting.

After what feels like an eternity of intense stare down, he crosses his arms and legs – not unlike you did just before – you finally muster the energy to start talking.

“wve need to talk” Genius. Best way to start a conversation. You’re such an idiot, ugh.  
He rolls his eyes – probably at your conversational skills “no, really, I don’t see what we should be talking about, it’s not like we got bound and that it’s forcing me to stay in this ditch of a town with a vampire pet drooling at my neck twenty four on twenty four. Naaaah”

His fangs are showing when he talks and wow these are fascinating. They’re so massive – there are four of them after all – and they hurt like hell before they start diffusing the delicious substance that changes the pain of bloodsucking in pleasure. How does he hide these in his mouth? Must be a pain in the ass, really. But enough wincing at these massive fangs, more talking now.

“Stop the sass already and let’s havwe a serious talk” You scowl and cross your own arms. “As you said, wve have to stay together from nowv o-“

“I’m going to rent a hotel room” he blurts out. 

What? What?! No! No he can’t do that! It implies one of you will have to travel to the other side of the town daily for dinner! No way you are doing this. And you make this known with a growl and a hissed “No bloody wvay! You are staying here, in this manor, evwen if I havwe to lock you up!”

“You just don’t want to move your diva ass an inch outside of your manor” He says with a more than mildly annoyed tone, but you will win this. No way you’re letting your ‘bloodfridge’ – as he said, and for now, he’s nothing more than that – get away from you.

He glares at you and gets up, throwing his arms in the air – really he is the diva, here – and starts bitching about it

“You don’t understand!! There’s nothing here! No internet, no phone line, there’s not even a computer for three miles around!” What the hell is a computer, internet, you’re confused, “there’s not even electricity in here!” 

He whines and falls back in his chair. “This place sucks; I’m already having withdrawal symptoms from the lack of technology...”

You have exactly zero idea of what he’s talking about. But he’s lying, there was a phone line, but a few years ago – actually more like fifty years ago – it stopped working. And you haven’t bothered calling someone to fix it; after all, it did give you a chance to cut ties with Miss Bitchfangs. Gosh you’re so glad you haven’t heard about her in fifty years. You stare at Captor with wide, confused eyes as he looks up, looking upset to death. He slowly gets up again and makes his way to you, his footsteps heavy but muffled by the thick carpet as he threatens to break your floorboards with his heavy combat boots – you’ve tried to get him to take them off but he flipped you off and called you names – and once he stops in front of the armchair you’re sitting in, he bends a bit to be at your eyelevel. What the hell is he doing?

“If I’m staying in this hellhole, I’m making my arrangements here. It means you’re gonna get modern technology right in your face. It’s either that or you drag your gingery ass to a hotel room daily.” He straightens up and you’re even more confused than you were two seconds ago. 

“And wvhat do you mean by that?” you ask way too gingerly for you taste. You’re ruining your reputation, ugh. Again.

“I mean I’ll have to go home to get my stuff and find a way to bring electricity here.” He replies in the same annoying tone one’d use to talk to a stupid child that’s prying too much.

But if it’s about electricity, you once had it in here. But suddenly one day it stopped working, and you decide to tell him exactly that “Electricity once worked in he-”

He cuts you off before you can finish or precise anything “ah, good. That means that I’ll have to find some way to restore it, aka pay bills, oh JOY!” He groans “how the hell am I gonna convince the electricity company to do it, this manor’s supposed to be empty! I guess I could say I bought it, but I’d need the official papers and oh god no way I can get these or make fakes what the hell am I gonna d-“

This time, you cut him – because wow the kid can talk, and is he panicking over a light bulb?? – by saying “why don’t you manipulate someone there to do it?” Vampire charm is actually a thing that works. Sometimes. Not always.

“Why don’t you go like a big boy?” he growls at you, and before you can say you can’t go out during the day, he continues “sunscreen is a thing by the way.”

You whine and bitch about it, even when he explains what sunscreen is. You two fight for about fifteen minutes about who should go over to the agency to reactivate the contract, but at some point he just freezes. You think he has an idea. But he doesn’t enlighten you and just walks out silently. You’re too mad to follow out of sheer curiosity and huff loudly. So he decided to rent his hotel room. So what? He’ll need blood too. He’ll come around... Who are you kidding you’re the one with the blood addiction here. You whine again but you’re determined. You’re not going to be the one to break. You’ll stay here, in your home and just do something productive to take your mind off the blonde’s blood. Like finishing tidying and reorganising the library. Yes, that’s a good idea. Very good idea. So you head over there and light up the candles before you start picking up the books Captor kicked off the pile during the fight.

About two or three hours later, you almost have a heart attack – you can’t have one anyways, you’re not exactly alive – as the room suddenly lights up. You take a second to calm down before you look up at the ceiling, the huge suspended electric candelabras working again. Your jaw drops. What, when why? You don’t have any time to think, you hear proud snickering behind you. You turn around to see Captor, a strange rectangular device under his arms. You squint, but you can’t determine what this device is for.  
Sion comes down the stairs and walks to you, beaming with pride “Guess who hacked into the electricity company’s website to reactive the line?”

You take a dangerous guess “You?” you have no idea what ‘hacking’ means

“Of course it’s me you imbecile” he rolls his eyes, annoyance making its way back into his voice, over the pride. He then sighs and continues “so, now we have electricity, and soon we’ll have internet installed, I already made the preparations for it. Next we need a tv, a decent phone line and -”  
“Wait wait what are those? I never agreed to any of these!”,you cut him, frowning

“Tough luck, big guy, because I only stay if I get those in there. And I’ll need to go back home to pick up my stuff, you know, clothes belongings...” He says with a groan. You guess he doesn’t like it to be forced to live here, while you could follow him home. But he already said he had no intention of coming home with – you quote – “a vampire pet”. So he’ll be staying in town until he finds a way to break off the contract. You already told him it’s impossible. He doesn’t listen and spends the time you’re not arguing or feeding making phone calls with his tiny magic phone. He says it’s not magic but he’s probably lying.

He continues his magical phoning for about an hour – you ended up throwing him out of the library because you like to keep it silent – before he reappears on the top of the stairs towering over the bookcases. You don’t notice it at first, mostly because you’re busy reorganizing the tons of book you are proud to have read. All of them. Okay, maybe not, but you’ve read most of them. 

It takes Sion a few minutes to reach the bookcase you’re working on, and when he does he looks annoyed. It’s nothing new, but you would have thought he would feel better after doing his little moving business. You stop moving books around and turn to him, an eyebrow raised questioningly. He answers with a sigh before actually talking.  
“I’ll have to go home to pick up my stuff. I don’t want you coming but it’s going to take me a few days.” He sounds more resigned than annoyed, actually.  
You groan out of exasperation. You know there’s no choice, but you really don’t’ want to leave home. To have to lather yourself in that sun blocking lotion, to have to hide somewhere not to be seen. You’re a proud vampire, you don’t want to hide. Also you don’t want to leave home because the world has changed and you don’t want to see it. Sion looks at least as unwilling as you – if not more – but you both know you have to.

About half an hour later, you put your old fashioned suitcase in the back of his magic carriage. Okay, you actually know it’s called a car and that it’s not magic. Magic carriage sounds fancier, though. Anyways, it’s actually empty. He said there was no way you were bringing your obsolete clothes; they’d draw too much attention. When you asked how the fuck you were going to get changed then, he threw his hands in the air, wiggled them and said, sarcasm heavy in his voice “Shopping triiiiip”.  
Oh hell no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that I made you wait so long, and that this chapter is not plot heavy. I just wanted to give away a bit of dualscar's personality and to set up things for what will happen during their trip and when they're back to Sion's.


End file.
